Pink Bows
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The soft light caught the corner of my eye as I was sitting in the kitchen finishing summer homework. At first, I thought it was a trick, it seemed like my lack of sleep had caught up to me. Mr. Johnson, the man I babysit for, had told me the cabin behind this house had been uninhabited for years, just some old real estate lying on the edge of the woods that not a single person in this small town would buy. I do not blame them, the wooden exterior had appeared to be rotted by the Carolinian dew over the years and there seems to be no electricity. Not even my penniless self would buy it. I looked back to my work and continued to slowly scribble notes down with my ink-stained hands as I felt my head grow so heavy that I had to use one arm to hold it up. My hand slips back and makes its way through my unwashed hair, I feel the grease slip through my fingers and the split ends prickle my palm. I would like to do my work any other time besides whatever hour of the night it is, but between waitressing during the day and babysitting at night, my only time to study is once the blue summer sky falls to charcoal and the kids are tucked in bed.
